


Episode 7: Not Coming Back

by PitoyaPTx



Series: Clan Meso'a [7]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Clan Meso'a, Clan Ordo, Clone Wars era, Gen, Mandalorian, Mandalorian Culture, Mandalorian Neo Crusaders, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 11:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17745263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitoyaPTx/pseuds/PitoyaPTx
Summary: "Secrets? Those are like tradition around here." ~JiikHeart, head, and tongue: the trifecta of conflict.





	Episode 7: Not Coming Back

“It’s good to hear your voice.”  
“Yeah.. thought we’d lost you too.”  
“How’s Miu?”  
…  
…  
“Avrida? How’s my sister?!”  
…  
“She died, Greta. She… didn’t handle the war well.”  
…  
“My nephew?”  
“I have him… he’s safe with me. I promise.”  
“Can I see him?”  
“Yeah. When he’s a bit older, I’ll bring him to see you.. It’s not safe right now. We’d never make it to the spaceport.”  
…  
…

“Promise you’ll come for me.. Avrida, promise me!”  
…  
“I promise.” 

“What are you listening to?” Beon asked as he entered the main room.   
Jiik, back to him, was hunched over the long range comms. He slid what Beon made out to be an ancient holocom into his back pouch; he straightened up, cleared his throat, and took a long swig from his mug. Is everyone addicted to caf around here, Beon shook his head and crossed the room to the right of Jiik where a line of computer terminals sat against the wall.   
“You’re back?” the Togruta asked, turning the dial on his implants so he could see better. Beon slowly came into focus; Jiik noted the new dents in his armor.   
“You stopped cleaning it?”  
Beon nodded, “Unless it keeps me from moving, I let it be.”   
“Heh, I remember when you’d polish your helmet twice a day. Wanted to see your face in it.”  
“I didn’t like how rough Fent was with his first set,” Beon admitted, flushing, “Thought I looked better than he did.”  
Jiik laughed into his mug, finishing it off, “Never thought I’d get through to you two. He was a hothead and you had a soft spot for the weak.”  
Beon focussed on the reports scrolling across the screen.   
“You know that, right?” Jiik continued, “Never left the course until all the other kids finished, never left a comrade behind, never-”  
“Your point?” Beon bristled, trying to keep his tone civil.   
“Let Cara go.”   
Beon gripped the sides of the machine, nostrils flared as his normally-dormant temper began to rise. Every night, Jiik was here in the station, and every night he tried to persuade Beon to let it go, to forget about Cara.   
“You know she’s fine,” he went on, “She’s with one of us, the tech checked out. Those parts are manufactured by a long time supplier, BWI. She’s fine.”   
“Will all due respect, sir,” Beon added as politely as possible, “I’d like to check it for myself.”   
The Togruta shrugged and dumped the last bits of caf into a rubbage bin.   
“Let’s say you do find her,” he said, leaning against the console with his arms crossed, “What are you going to do, huh? If she’s lucky she’s been adopted. If not, she’s old enough to be on her own.”   
“She’s not like us,” Beon countered, “She’d never make it with a clan or on her own.”  
“Then why bother? Why bother with an outsider?”   
Jiik limped away, muttering under his breath. Beon stared blankly at the screen, hands still gripping the machine. He hung his head and let out a sigh, letting go and powering the terminal down. Why bother with an outsider? He didn’t know. The reasons he’d come up with night after night would sound silly to anyone but himself. He could say that she was like a sister to him, but Cara and Beun were on opposite ends of the spectrum as far as personality goes. Like a friend? Fent was his best friend, so… Beon shook his head, smiling slightly. If she’s lucky she’s been adopted.. Something about that made him...ache? Was it an ache? Maybe..   
He put his head in his hands, letting the cool night air wash against him. The rain reduced to a drizzle sometime in the past hour; he could barely feel the dampness of the steps through his thick kama. He tried to focus on the distant plinks of ran on the roof or on the leaves up above him, but he just couldn’t...not for long. If she’s lucky she’s been adopted.   
“Best to let family issues be,” Fent’s words came back to him as they watched Hugh scold her for dropping a jug on Beon’s foot.   
That’s why she wanted us to keep the jugs. She just wanted a break from him. The painful thought brought another wave of guilt over him again. Hugh’s bloody head swam back into his mind. Beon shook his head and dragged his fingers down his cheeks trying his hardest not to hear Cara’s panicked screaming. Whatever he did to her… did he really deserve that? 

“A listening post?” Cara asked as Aviila helped her with a padded vest.   
“Yes, but don’t be afraid. These are my people.”  
“Oh…” Cara’s voice wavered as anxiety made her stomach quiver.   
Aviila seemed to sense her hesitation and gave her a soft pat on her arm.   
“Just stay by me and do not speak unless spoken to. They won’t be expecting an outsider.”   
“A-and if they’re not ok with me here?”  
Aviila gave her a warm smile and grapsed both shoulders, bringing her forehead to Cara’s.   
“So long as I am with you, no one will hurt you.”   
Cara gulped but nodded appreciatively, fiddling with the vest straps as the ship finished the docking procedure.   
“Stay here a moment,” the Twi’lek said, moving past her into the hallway towards the airlock.   
Cara peered around the corner, watching as the door opened with a hiss and yellow light flooded into the hall. Aviila straightened up, arms behind her back.   
“Su cuy’gar, vod,” she said, making to approach the figure coming into the light.  
Cara’s body went numb as a tall, yellow-eyed Zabrak entered the ship and stared directly at her... 

 

“Promise you’ll come for me.. Avrida, promise me!”  
…  
“I promise.” 

Jiik replayed the message over and over in his quarters. Three dirty mugs in the sink, four on the table; a stack of six holo coms sat in a dusty box on the floor. Other than the light from the table, the room was dark and musty. Implants powered off, Jiik laid on the couch with an ice pack secured to his stump of a head-tail. He absently finished his ninth protein bar, eyes red from being up so late.   
“She never came, did she?” he asked the air, “She never came…”


End file.
